“You know that is no way to treat your son!” I called out.
“You are not my son!” he all but shouted, “You are a thirteen year old mistake that’s come back to haunt me.”
“Twelve!” I shouted back.
“Twelve for you, but its’ been nearly thirteen years since I fornicated your mother!”
Of course, he didn’t say ‘fornicated’ either.
I got up from the chair to go retrieve my stuff from outside, but didn’t quite make it before he reappeared.
“Might as well accept it, I’m your kid.” I sang out.
He returned holding a now empty glass, save for three lonely ice cubes. He pointed at me with the same hand he used to hold his glass and spoke aggressively.
“Look, twenty minutes ago I was happily living the life of a forty year old, CHILDLESS, bachelor…”
Before he could finish I jumped in with, “YOU’RE FORTY YEARS OLD?!”
“Watch it you little…” He again referred to me as bodily waste, “I’m just saying…”